


and that's why friends should sleep in other beds

by ImNotStubborn



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, New Year's Eve, Sharing a Bed, Weekly Berena Fix, repost from tumblr, unrequited love (or is it), young berena au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 02:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNotStubborn/pseuds/ImNotStubborn
Summary: My attempt to fill the "snuggle" prompt of the Weekly Berena Fix over on tumblr





	and that's why friends should sleep in other beds

Bernie Wolfe is not freaking out.

She just woke up, not completely sober yet, and realized that the arm that’s slung over her waist and the hand that’s clutching at her top are Serena’s; that the co-F1, the very heterosexual co-F1 she’s been crushing on for the past couple of months who just happens to be one of her closest friends,  _that_  Serena, is also breathing and lightly snoring into her neck, tiny puffs of air occasionally moving strands of Bernie’s hair that tickle at the skin behind her ear.

So, Bernie’s not freaking out right now. But it’s not exactly out of the realm of possibilities for the forseeable future.

She tries to relax her body into the mattress of the convertible sofa she’s crashing on, casting a glance at Ric’s –passed out on the floor amongst a few other friends, Ric– watch that’s shimmering in the moonlight, and learns it’s still too early to wake everyone up and catch the first trains back home.

She can’t help but feel excited that this is how she’s starting the year, getting to spend some time awake with a cuddly sleeping Serena McKinnie actually spooning her. And although there’s a familiar wave of guilt showing its ugly head in the back of her mind, pointing out that she shouldn’t be feeling this way and that she’s abusing her friend’s trust by enjoying this, she’s still tipsy enough that she can allow herself to keep it at bay.

Because, sure, this is a temporary thing and it’s just Serena being her overly tactile self –a trait that might have been enhanced by all the drinking they’ve been doing on New Year’s Eve. And of course it’s projection on Bernie’s part, and of course she’s overthinking what is normal, friendly, platonic behaviour to her flirt of a best friend.

Still, Bernie gets lost in thinking over the entire evening, and indulges her heart for a while.

She thinks back to the way Serena cheered louder than anyone else when Bernie finally showed up at Henrik’s –later than planned because she’d been nervous about what to wear, of all reasons– and hugged her tight, like she hadn’t seen her in a while, like they hadn’t been elbow deep into the same patient’s guts just hours before. And sure, Serena didn’t wait for Bernie to start drinking so she already wasn’t herself by then; still, there is not enough alcohol in the world for Bernie to ever forget the look the brunette gave her as she pulled away, taking in the classy black jeans and the unusual cleavage on the extravagant top Bernie had been, up until that moment, so unsure of.

Then there’s the fact that Serena kept passing her shots to Bernie, explaining to everyone around that the only reason she enjoys this holiday anyway is that it’s the only time of the year it seems socially acceptable for young people to get drunk on wine as well as the stronger alcohols she dislikes so much. And more than that, there’s the surprising blush that coloured the fierce woman’s cheeks when Bernie joked that it was only an excuse to try and get her drunk and Ric had overheard and added that it was probably just to get into her pants.

More and most importantly, however, was the kiss. The midnight kiss, the kiss Bernie had been so hoping to get from this one person in particular, that she stopped dancing around eleven thirty, to instead scan the room and hover somewhat close to Serena without it looking too suspicious. When excited voices started to echo in the small flat for everyone to regroup, she casually tapped on her friend’s shoulder, pretending she’d only just noticed their proximity, and was greeted with a dazzling smile and another bone-crushing hug. By the time everyone was counting back from ten, the relatively tiny living room was crowded with guests and both women were standing with their arms touching in a corner of the room. Serena counted backwards with everyone, shouting numbers at the top of her lungs, and Bernie got lost in admiring the glee and excitement on her face. Until that face turned to look at her, and Bernie was momentarily confused as to why it was getting closer to hers.

She caught up a millisecond before contact, and turned her head slightly when she realized Serena’s lips were about to land on hers. But instead of giving her the friendly peck on the cheek she was expecting, Serena smoothly hooked her hands behind Bernie’s neck in a loose hug, gently turning her face back. And then, with an uncharacteristically timid smile and eyes shining in a way Bernie had never seen before, Serena got close again, and crashed their mouths together.

There was a second of total silence, of total blindness, of only Serena’s lips on hers and her own heart pumping blood louder than she’d ever felt in her life. She thought it would be over then, but even as the shock wore off and the noise around them made itself known to her ears again, the pressure against her lips stayed on. And so she responded, one hand flat against the wall for support and the other shyly, lightly resting on the thick leather belt Serena was wearing around her waist, as she pushed back with everything she had.

Bernie runs hesitant fingertips on her lips as she remembers the feeling of that kiss, and the stunned, somewhat hazy look her friend had been sporting when they’d separated.

But Serena had simply smiled and taken a step back, and they’d both immediately been engulfed in hugs from their surrounding friends. It was only a half hour later that they finally found each other again, and Serena resumed dancing with Bernie, and others, like nothing had happened. Forcing down the pain brought on by her friend’s nonchalance regarding what was probably just an overly enthusiastic display of affection to Serena, Bernie played along.

They’d previously agreed to stay until about one, then get back together to their respective cars, still parked at Holby City Hospital. Bernie had suspected however, even before getting to the party, that neither of them would ever be sober enough by then to actually carry that plan out. And Serena only confirmed that prediction at five to one, by downing an entire flute like it was one of those vodka shots she dreaded so much and then proceeding to challenge Sacha Levy in a strictly champagne-oriented drinking contest.

So later, much later when they actually started to think about going home and realized there were no more public transportation, Henrik, always well-mannered even when tipsy, simply suggested they sleep here until morning like a few other guests had planned to do.

Bernie’s not exactly clear on the details after that part, only remembers the apartment being suddenly near-empty of drunk F1s –the ones still in a party mood having relocated to the kitchen with the music, or to the bathroom to help a couple of sick undergraduates– and Serena proudly showing her the pull-out couch and immediately throwing herself on it so that  _they_  wouldn’t have to sleep on futons, or the floor.

She does remember however, perching herself on the very edge of her side of the mattress in order to avoid being too close to Serena –the mere thought of being in such close contact after that kiss being too much for her intoxicated brain– and wonders how the hell they ended up like this, Serena wrapped around her from behind and fitting so well against her she wants to groan.

Serena mumbles something in her sleep and Bernie immediately tenses, afraid to move even an inch, and closes her eyes in case her friend might be waking up. Cuddling with your friend when you’re both asleep is one thing, but realizing said friend has been lying awake in your embrace for an embarrassing number of minutes? Bernie’s pretty sure even flirt queen Serena McKinnie would find it odd.

But the shorter woman simply stirs in her sleep and breathes loudly a few times before she settles herself even more fully against the blonde, her chest and pelvis and legs molding themselves against the back of Bernie’s muscled body, her fist still clenching the fabric of Bernie’s top just below her last ribs, tight enough to send a shiver running down her spine.

When Serena’s breathing quiets back down to the light snoring from before, Bernie finally relaxes, and although she knows that Serena’s not doing any of this intentionally, she tries to enjoy the moment itself, no matter how little it would mean to her friend and how much it means to her. So she sighs and closes her eyes as she carefully, slowly brings her hand down from where it was still tracing her own lips to graze over the back of Serena’s fingers, and lets herself smile and imagine for a bit that they’re anywhere but in the middle of a living room surrounded by other drunk future doctors all passed out from too much partying.

She opens her eyes when the contrast between fantasy and reality threatens to become too much for her heart, and immediately freezes when she notices a tall figure standing in the doorway.

But before she thinks of something to say or do to explain herself, she notices that Henrik isn’t frowning, and he doesn’t look shocked either. In fact, in the halo of light from the near-full moon, Bernie can spot a rare, warm and genuine smile forming on his lips.

She does wonder which one of them drank the most, however, when she thinks she sees him  _wink_  at her before he walks away.


End file.
